Crazy Faithful Asians
When God calls: What 2000 miles away taught me about God’s faithfulness
by lydia huang
I spent this summer in Taiwan serving in church ministry and taking Mandarin classes. While that may sound noble, to be very honest, most of it was attempting to navigate Taipei’s traffic in 90 degree weather and humidity. I was away from everything that was familiar, and for the first time in a long time—alone. Whilst at Cornell, I’m spoiled with Christian community. In Taiwan, I was one of two Christians in my intensive language program (shoutout Estelle, love you). I also barely knew anyone in the city. Every morning and every evening, on my twenty minute walk to the university, I would wind through the streets of Taipei with my headphones in, blasting Mandarin worship music in an attempt to cram as much language skills in my head and oftentimes found myself praying for those strangers on the streets who most likely did not know God.
Needless to say, my heart’s desire to go on missions to a difficult place was answered. I was so moved by Michael Oh’s message, to come and be a nobody for Jesus, yet, I had no idea what I got myself into. [1] Taiwan was spiritually difficult. It was physically demanding. It pushed me to my mental capacity; my language program was the most intense academic bootcamp I had ever been through. Annina knows all the lore and 2 a.m. WhatsApp prayer requests. Yet, all of those combined did not measure up to the many things that I saw and read that broke my heart in ways that are hard to put into words.
One night, while walking back home, I distinctly remember walking past a girl my age. She was dressed to go clubbing, decked in makeup and eight inch heels, yet had the saddest expression I had seen on a person in a while. She traipsed through the streets looking down the entire time. The moment I saw her, everything in me just yearned to reach out. I turned around to notice that I was near the alley where there were karaoke bars and gay nightclubs. And a few districts down, was the red light district. I turned around again, and she was gone. I guess in that moment it became real to me that God’s heart does break. Despite all of the technological and economic advances Asia has experienced, there’s still not a solution to the grievous problem of evil—evil that leads unto death. And you see this everywhere in Asia. In India, abject poverty; in Thailand, brothels abound; in Japan, pornographic magazines in corner stores; in China, pure idolatry, disappearances and arrests of pastors and increased oppression of home churches. The summer solidified for me that people need God no matter where they are. People need to know who Jesus is: God’s love and grace and truth. People need to know the living God, for too many neither know Him nor worship Him.
Yet, it felt like whatever hardship I experienced was met with an infinite surplus of grace, as I could feel His presence to be so close. Almost every night, I would come back to my apartment and fall on my knees in worship and in typical Lydia fashion, have an endless stream of engulfing tears at the beauty and protection of my God amidst the craziness of all that I had experienced. I have learned that when you truly leave everything for the Lord, when you put everything on the table, Matthew 19:29 does not just sound really nice, but becomes a lived reality. I truly feel like I have experienced the hundredfold that Jesus promises. [2] The summer taught me how to meet the Lord in silence. It taught me how to have a heart of worship at all times. It taught me how to maintain joy in all circumstances.
I have glimpsed flashes of grace in every corner and crevice of where I went in Asia. First, God surrounded me with lots of wonderful Christians I never could have expected. From the woman wearing a cross necklace and beaming to me, “Yes! I’m a Christian” the coffee shop owner reading the Bible (do you know how rare that is in Asia???), my uber Christ-like uncle blasting “I Thank God” on our drives through the Singapore peninsula, meeting Ruth and the group of young people ministering to campus and living out 1 Timothy 4:12, to witness worship in Mandarin Chinese every Saturday.
Second, He taught me that He is at work in people’s hearts. With my friend Ruth, I befriended an international student from China who accepted the gospel right in front of me and prayed her first prayer the same day she learned about Christ! She is now learning about Scripture and going to church. I also got to tell my friend Dom about the gospel on my birthday! What. could. be. more. glorious. I could tell these stories and so much more. At 23 years old, I never thought I’d say that I haven’t seen my mom for one whole year. Yet, I do not feel like I lack any feeling of “home,” for where He goes, I go. Where His heart breaks, is where I try to mend things. Where He leads, I follow. I never used to understand Luke 14:26: “He who does not leave mother and father, brother and sister, is not worthy of me.” Shouldn’t we be honoring mother and father? Now, I think I get it. The fullness of goodness is encapsulated in Christ. He just gently asks us to trust that. I am now starting to understand that God is worthy of it all. He is truly faithful.
In August when it was time to say goodbye to Taiwan and this far away continent, I serendipitously found myself in a scene straight out of the Notebook. Well, erm, there was no Ryan Gosling, nor summer romance, nor picturesque boat scene, but I did find myself in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. It was the start of typhoon season in Taiwan, and not only did it rain cats and dogs every so often, but a whole platoon of animals. In other words, when it rained, it poured. So here I was, caught in the midst of one of life’s literal storms. I started laughing, and a verse came to mind: “You have given me more joy than when their grain and wine abound.”Strangely, in those moments of walking home drenched like a wet towel, I realized I had felt more joyful, and more free, and possibly more exuberant than I had felt in a really long time. Despite my circumstances, there bubbled up a surpassing joy that caught me by surprise. I was living out of a suitcase, away from home, and drenched in rain yet was having the best time of my life.
Taiwan was hard—so hard—and full of spiritual warfare, but immensely joyful and worth every bit of the sacrifice. I would do it all again just to tell one more person about God. I can’t promise you much in life, but I can promise you this: that if you seek Him with all your heart, He is sure to be found. As we see in Scripture, when God calls, you have no choice but to answer. It is a tug in your heart that you simply cannot refuse. My desire to go to Asia was exactly this. It was a gradual growing desire in my heart, a pull and conviction I can’t explain. Unfortunately, as someone who desires clarity so much, there was never a flash of lightning or a chubby infant angel descending from heaven. My hotline never blinged with 1-800-HEAVEN, with a direct message from St. Peter. Yet, there was always a growing interest and a peace-filled joy. John Piper writes:
Where do [missionaries] come from? How are they made? I think 1 Peter 2:9 points to the answer. They are people in whom God does a special work of grace. When they read these words, “You are chosen . . . that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light,” they know and feel that they were once in hopeless darkness. They know and feel that Christ died for their sins,—and not for theirs only, but for all the nations. They know and they feel that God called them invincibly into light and eternal life. And they know, and they feel that the light in which they stand with Jesus Christ is marvelous. More marvelous than all the money or mansions in the world. They have experienced these things.
And then, God does that special work. When these ordinary born-again people hear about the nations, something happens. There is no point in trying to describe it or quantify it or control it or package it. It happens in a thousand ways. It happens in a moment. Or it happens in a month. Or in a 50-year wrestling match with God. Sooner or later, for these people—these ordinary people called missionaries—it becomes irresistible. They finally know: I must go. It becomes clear to them; they must. [3]
You know, I used to think that life was all about what you can accomplish. It was about achieving the best, and being the best. It was about being knowledgeable, impressive, and successful. The more I know Jesus, the more I just want to be small. Paradoxically, the best life I have ever lived is the one that I lived in Asia and here at Cornell: missional, intentional, and difficult. Small, and unknown. My accomplishments this past year have been minute and unseen. However, my growing love for Jesus and his ministry, and the peace and joy that comes with knowing God, that floods my heart every day far surpasses any of these things.
In my Mandarin class, I learned a phrase that roughly translates to “to die for” or “lay down your life”. I thought this was such an interesting phrase, as China largely does not have any Christian roots (sadly, St. Paul did not go to Asia first!). My teacher asked the class if there was anything we would die for. Make a lot of money? Win the Olympics? My split second internal answer shocked myself when I realized for me, it would be the spread of the gospel. The truth and the mercy of Christ is worth dying for! It was in that moment that I realized I love my Lord possibly more than life because He is infinitely worth more than anything this world could offer.
If you talked to me even a year ago, I could not have come to this conclusion by myself. I knew that God wanted something from my life, and that if I talked to Him, He would make it known what it was. My vision of God was that He was demanding and mean, that as a Christian aware of who He is, He would order me to wear sackcloth and ashes and live for 40 years in the desert. I, being the ambitious college student that I was, could not accept that reality! That sounded like a terrible life! I was terrified that if I actually acknowledged His presence in my life, He would take everything away from me. I wanted a comfortable life. My worst fear was to be poor, homeless, and persecuted like St. Paul. Yet, I have concluded that what an absolute honor it is when God has placed a unique desire in your heart to be either poor materially or poor in spirit for His Kingdom, to reflect his magnanimity more and more and more. Sure, it’s comfortable to be comfortable, but comfort is so, so boring. It makes you dull. What an absolute privilege when God wants to impart His grace on you so that HIS honor and glory (not yours) may be shown through you so magnificently. I pray hard every day that I run hard and fast after the cross and never look back. I pray so hard that His will may be done in my life, and not mine. To Him be the dominion, forever and ever. Amen! [4] .
If God is gracious enough, I hope he extends a return offer to Asia…to be a nobody amongst nobodies. And I hope when He calls, I won’t be Jonah, but rather Samuel. Finally, I hope I’ll have the confidence of Isaiah: “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us? And I said, ‘Here I am. Send me.” [5]
Sources
[1] Come Be a Nobody for Christ. (August 26, 2011) Desiring God. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/come-be-a-nobody-for-christ
[2] Matthew 19:29 (NIV)
[3] Proclaiming the Excellencies of Christ, Not Prosperity, Among the Nations. (October 26, 2008). Desiring God. https://www.desiringgod.org/messages/proclaiming-the-excellencies-of-christ-not-prosperity-among-the-nations
[4]1 Peter 5:11 (NIV)
[5] Isaiah 6:8 (NIV)